“two boxes of pages I assumed were his new novel and the various film scripts he stooped to work on”

Every day scientists are making new miracles happen. I like the flashes out of time—the idea of them more than the actual demented realism.

One of the big problems has always been getting the alien to do something or mean something. We run into him and drive away and then run into him again.

Several times you say ‘we’ instead of ‘they.’ I guess you are slipping into remembering, a wonderful scattered sensation like air.

Should someone have died?

If I was afraid I didn’t know it.

I sometimes distrust a person who goes out of their way to let you know they appreciate your pain. It’s realistic but it isn’t hungry, if that makes sense. Imagine getting this far only to die of malnutrition.

Strange animals, massive when Pedro suddenly shows up, awkward with everyone. As if hypnotized by a circus fortune teller the ones that make you do things that you wouldn’t normally do.

I like the impact/horror of being kept locked up for eternity with the self. Everything in one voice.

 
Where there would have been a ceiling was a desire.

Where there would have been a desire was intoxicating.